


The Other Woman

by DontCallMeStraightOrCis



Category: Red Dwarf (UK TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23542720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontCallMeStraightOrCis/pseuds/DontCallMeStraightOrCis
Summary: Stuck in a universe that isn’t her own, Kochanski contemplates the past existence of the other Kochanski.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	The Other Woman

She thought about the other Kristine a lot. More than she perhaps should.

It wasn't intentional, she didn't _want_ to go around thinking about the other her that was now long dead and gone. But she did.

Lister never said anything, bless his heart. He just took her as she was now; the only giveaway was the occasional tightness of his smile or a strange look in his eye, as if he couldn't quite understand what he was looking at.

She might have never even thought about the other Kristine if it weren't for Holly, in that bland voice of their's, suggesting that she raid the other Kristine's wardrobe for clothes.

Two days was as long as she could hold out.

It was unsettling from the moment she opened the door, like someone had taken the world of its axis and left it spinning and confused. Everything was almost right, but not quite.

The bed was the same, and the table had been pushed against the far wall, the chairs all tucked in neat. But it still so strange.

Where she would have had her horse show rosettes, this Kristine had a Scottish rugby scarf and a plain black hat. Where she preferred red, this Kristine's wardrobe was made up of black and beige and browns. Where she found have had her books, this Kristine had Blondie albums. Strangest of all was the photograph on the wall.

It looked like a birthday party of sorts. A rather pathetic one where the banners were all crumbled and the balloons were already starting to deflate, but it seemed a well-meaning attempt. It might have happened right after a shift as everyone there was dressed in uniform. Well, almost everyone.

There was Lister, because of course they was Lister, dressed bright and obnoxious, wearing a million-dollar smile. Todhunter, or so she thought, was next to him, his hair a bit straighter and his grin a bit awkward. On the other side was... well that had to be McGruder. The eye colour was wrong, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen McGruder with her hair down, but that had to be her. She was smiling too, wide and blinding, and Kristine couldn't help but smile back. McGruder just had that effect on people. And if she wasn't mistaken, there was even Rimmer, hiding in the background, probably waiting for the photo to be finished so he could drag Lister away to get in his daily yelling.

And then, there was the woman in the middle. The woman with the, in Lister's words, 'pin-ball smile'.

She was smaller, rather dainty looking, and yet somehow, you got the feeling that she was far more rough and tumble than her size would suggest. She wasn't outrageously beautiful, but she looked charming, cheeky, fun.

It seemed impossible, but the patch on her shirt said it all: Kristine Kochanski.

She hadn't been able to sleep the night she'd found that photo. Had spent the night staring up at the ceiling, the creaks and groans of the ship echoing in her ear as she thought about it.

It didn't make sense. A jumble of similar features - same hair, same skin, same gender - rearranged and organised to create two unrecognisable things.

She could imagine this Kristine bumming cigarettes off Lister after a tough shift, going out to drink with McGruder on the weekends and getting wasted for fun. She could imagine this Kristine grinning as she elbowed Todhunter in the side, teasing him about his crush, watching the rugby with Tim and yelling loudly for her team.

She could have never done that herself.

She'd resisted asking for a day, but eventually gave in. Holly gave her everything they knew about this Kristine, with the promise that Lister didn't need to know about this.

This Kristine had a different father.

Kristine knew him, he was her mum's best friend, but in this universe... well, they were apparently more.

She'd tried not to think about it, just as she tried not to think about the other Kristine, but it didn't work. She wondered and wondered and wondered. While she ate, while Kryten complained at her, while she read, while she ran for her life- it was always in the back of her mind. What had changed, what was the catalyst? Why him and not the man who was her father?

That, Holly didn't know.

A week after her first venture in, she visited The Room again.

She found a familiar well-worn diary filed with unfamiliar scrawling and events. She found a dusty teddy bear wearing a graduation hat congratulating her for surviving university. And she found, hidden behind a mirror on the desk, a picture of her and Lister.

It had obviously been taken at the same birthday the other picture had, but a few moments before everyone else had joined in. It was a strangely platonic picture.

Lister had always worn his heart on his grubby sleeve, and after they'd first broken up, it'd been painful to see photographs of them together. He always had an eye on her, a softness to his smile and a tight arm around her waist.

This Lister looked straight at the camera, smile big and wide, an arm over her shoulder.

Maybe they had been friends before they dated, unlike her and Dave. And that lead to other thoughts.

Would this Kristine ever been able to love her Lister? Would this Kristine been able to handle being possibly the last human alive? Would this Kristine have wanted to be a mother, ever get into this whole mess in the first place? Would this Kristine have ever saved the cat?

"Wondered how long it'd take you to come 'ere."

Lister could be a surprisingly quiet man when he wanted to be. Her Dave didn’t often want to be; he liked to walk loud and talk louder, to make up for every silent step he’d ever taken.

Kristine didn't look away from the photograph in her hands, not even when Lister stopped beside her and sighed.

"Hope you're not too mad I didn' tell you 'bout my Kochanski. Thought it'd jus' make you feel weird."

"...Well, you were right about that. I can't believe how different we are. Why did you even believe me when I said I was her?"

Lister shrugged, and she finally looked away from the photo. She wondered if Lister had felt like this when he saw Dave.

"Weirder things have been true. 'Sides, the other me seemed to think you were, so I guessed it was jus' some weird parallel universe thing."

"...I suppose weirder things have happened."

Lister leaned over her shoulder, and let out a breathy laugh.

"God, I didn' know she kept tha' one. Thought she threw it out after Tim."

"She hid it behind her mirror."

It was strange talking about someone who was technically yourself in the third person.

He gently took it out of her hands and smiled down at the photo. There was silence in the room for a while, not an awkward one, but not an easy one either.

Eventually, the smile left and Lister ran his thumb over the frame.

"...Sorry I'm not more like your Lister."

She blinked, frowning ever so slightly. She knew that look; her Dave wore it well. He’d worn it a lot before he’d been given his hard-light body.

"Don't apologise, please. You shouldn't be sorry for that, just like I'm not sorry for not being your Kristine... I'm sorry you didn't get anything like us though, me and Dave."

He shrugged, a half-smile on his face.

"I'll get somethin'."

"With who? This Kristine is dead."

Again, he shrugged.

"Weirder things have happened."

There was something missing here, a blacked-out sentence in a banned book, but she didn't push it. This wasn’t her Dave to push and prod. Just like she wasn’t his Kristine to love. Perhaps they could be something though, something like that Kristine and Lister in the picture.

She put a hand on his back and leaned against his arm. He kept his eyes on the photograph. 

In the end, she took from McGruder's wardrobe. The clothes there were a better fit.


End file.
